


Collisions.

by larryshighway



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dominant Louis, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Jealous Louis, M/M, New York City, Protective Louis, Sad Harry, Scared Harry, Self Confidence Issues, Submissive Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryshighway/pseuds/larryshighway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the sun and the moon were to make a head on collision, would it be catastrophic or would it be wonderful? If level headed, big time NY photographer, Louis Tomlinson were to be burdened with the chore of capturing hopelessly alcohol addicted, proper dickhead popstar Harry Styles for a magazine- would it be disastrous? or would Louis sharp blue eye sense the emptiness in Harry's sunken green ones?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi. so like, this is the first piece of writing that I've ever created on this site, as I'm BRAND NEW!! and I'm terrified, but simultaneously excited and secretly hoping that some of you will dig it. maybe? possibly? i'd like to apologize in advance for any errors, i work very quickly and am not the biggest believer in proof reads oops haha. i'm not the most experienced writer in the world but i'm pretty into creating stories from time to time ( especially when they're about larry) so i thought i'd use my snow day and the fact that i'm being plagued with terrible insomnia once again to give this thing a shot yay. i hope you enjoy. or at least i guess i hope that you're not appalled or anything. cheers! oh, and happy 2014. that was necessary i think.
> 
>  
> 
> OH and also!! in regards to this fic, it DOES have some gryles scenes. bc what better way to spark jealous!louis at his finest than a bit of gryles action?? but dont worry i do not ship gryles, so before you throw your weapons at me- nothing is permanent. ;)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS! i'm not entirely sure how to add actual trigger warnings because I'm still trying to figure this site out, but this is a very angsty fic. There are mild scenes of self- harm and lots of discussion of self- hate and suicidal thoughts and depression and generally heavy topics. abuse of drugs/alcohol as well. if you feel that reading any of this will affect you negatively, please refrain from doing so because i love you and i think that you're wonderful and the last thing i want to do is create anything potentially upsetting or triggering.
> 
> my smut probably sucks but idk man i tried.
> 
> okay, pce ilysm if you're reading this feedback means the world and would be very kind and motivational :-)))  
> xx- mer

Louis yawned, nearly toppling out of bed. the irritating buzz of his alarm repetitively insisted that he rise and participate in Monday morning. He cursed under his breath, becoming aware that the tune of Marimba was unlikely to leave his head for hours. God, he hated that song. But it seemed he'd never gotten around to changing the default tone on his iPhone. Louis despised change, adored the familiarity of routines and rituals and regulation. He was the farthest thing from a morning person, but took secret comfort in his daily obligation to tear himself from his cozy blankets at 7 am exactly for work. His order at the small bagel shop around the corner from his apartment never differed from his favorite whole grain sandwich, complete with scrambled eggs and a small container of cream cheese. It was a rarity that he purchased wardrobe that clashed with or strayed out of the realm of neutral button ups, solid ties, and khakis. It wasn't that Louis was boring. He had the potential to be mindblowingly adventurous, and hilarious, and unique to the point where it seemed that the very word was invented as an adjective for him. But Louis days of spontany were mere fragments of his past, fading parts of his youth, memories that he'd intentionally shoved to the back of his brain and attempted to forget permanently. He'd convinced himself that he preferred a lifestyle under the guidance of rules and deadlines and necessities. It was the best way to remain driven and get things done. His career in photography was surprisingly creative for the demeanor he'd adapted in his early twenties, but it was quite the technical job when it came down too it. And truth be told, he wasn't unhappy. He was doing an excellent job of providing for himself. As a fresh UNI graduate, he felt quite accomplished to have made it to America, landed himself a seemingly promising job, and decent apartment in one of the largest cities in the nation. He was doing pretty well, actually. That's what'd he told his mum. and his sisters. and his friends. and more often than not, himself. he didn't think that anything was missing. He didn't mind residing alone. He was content, or so he thought. He hoped he'd lived enough to comprehend the true meaning of "content", hoped even harder that he hadn't been so dumb as to allow the feelings that he'd once relished to entirely slip his mind and realm of recognition.  
but all he could really do was hope. and work. and bask in the protection of his rituals and routines. they made him feel safe and important. and who doesn't want to feel that way, really? Its strange to happen upon an individual who hasn't developed his or her secret mechanisms of coping and comfort in new situations.  
Its like, everyone has a coping mechanism for growing up. louis never much fancied the idea of aging when he was a child. He didn't know how he felt about it now that he'd become a victim to its inevitable transformation. Powerless. But powerless would be a constant feeling, should it be permitted to wrestle with his mind. He no longer allowed such trains of thought. Ecxessive thought was not a necessity. But getting to work on time was. He'd become a bit too logical, maybe. But oh well. It was better, probably. He had a future, this way. He thought. Painfully bright sunshine poked through the pastel curtains in his tiny, but luxurious bedroom. Nice weather never failed to put a smile on the young, Peter Pan resembling man's face. If there was a signal for Louis to finally haul himself out for the day, sunshine and good vibes were certainly qualified. He was in the bathroom in what seemed like less than an instant, splashing his face with cold water, running a quick comb though his helplessly floppy fringe ( the only remaining boyish aspect to his matured appearance.) He briefly considered shaving his scruff, for a more professional look, but decided against it, in the interest of time and slight desire to continue the growth of this possible goatee. He tugged a tan button up from his large old fashioned beauraux, easily pairing it with nearly identical trousers and shiny black loafers. Upon emerging from the bathroom, he snatched his leather satchel ( very important tote in which his prized NIkon was transported in) and headed out the door, smiling slightly in anticipation of the short walk to the local studios in which he took all sorts of photos at for different purposes and any money he could get.

Despite the fact that Louis had only graduated from University a year ago, he was already extremely high up when it came to the placement and prestige of photographers in the NYC Bright Faces Studio. His salary wasn't small in comparison to his older coworkers, who had been in practice for much longer than he. His boss, an elderly man with kind eyes and large expectations, had once reffered to Louis as a "prodigy", and was constantly complementing his work. Louis was naturally gifted, and no one could deny him of this. He supposed he just had a way with capturing things, a talent when it came to photographing the true beauty in even the things that seemed horrid and worthless. He had an eye for it. Louis received a large variety of work, being assigned projects that differed in size, importance, and of course, subject. Sometimes he took photos of plants for nature calendars, animals for pet store brochures, and more regularly, people. people of all kinds. His assignments varied from family Christmas card shoots to fashion snaps that would be shipped out to big-time magazines. He was often paired with his good mate and co worker, Liam, to photograph certain things. He was incredibly thankful to have Liam around, they'd instantly seemed to bond over the fact that they were the only young photographers in the studio. Besides, Liam was a good guy, and extremely faithful, trustworthy pal. Louis, who seemed to have a strange time with growing close to companions and allowing people into his life, could let his walls down around Liam. It was both a comforting friendship, and a comforting feeling.

Louis stepped into the studio right on time, clocking in his employee card with his left hand, bagel bag dangling in his right. Liam was bent over in the main room, adjusting the height on his camera stand, brow furrowed in concentration. "Oi, mate." Louis greeted the frustrated lad with a pat on the back and tired grin. Liam glanced up, studying Louis through bleary brown eyes. He returned the greeting with a small smile before returning to his work. "You alright, then?" Louis asked, attempting to hide the amusement in his voice, as he bent down to get a good look at whatever was troubling his friend. Liam sighed in experastion. "Don't even bother." he insisted, wearily. "The things absolutely done for. I can't get it to expand past the height of four inches. It's meant to raise level to at LEAST twenty! Shit. It was so expensive, too."  
"Aw mate, I'm sorry. That's really rubbish. How did it break, have you dropped it?", Louis inquired, with only a slight eyebrow raise. "No!! I mean, I dont think so. The only other person who's used it is Dani. She wouldn't have just-"

Their conversation was interrupted by the creak of the door to their boss, Mr. Carson's office. The old man emerged- looking impossibly refreshed for his age, and for the early hour. He smiled at the two lads and Liam's cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink, as he hopped in front of his broken device. "Hello, boys." he laughed, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. "Doing alright this morning?" The thing with Mr. Carson was, that it was terribly hard to get mad at him. He was such a jolly kind man, but his tendencies to dump massive piles of work on his employees were frequent. And irritating. "All good, Mr. C". Louis grinned. "Right, excellent. Why don't the two of you come into my office for a bit, yeah? I'd like to discuss some upcoming possible business." 

Louis audibly stifled a groan, and exchanged an irritated eye roll with Liam before the two filed in behind the old man. The door swung shut, and Mr. C signaled for Louis and Liam to plop down in the seats before his desk ( as they'd done many times) while he took his own. "Lads." 

"Mr.C". The boys waited in anticipation as the man folded his hands and stared at them for an uncomfortable minute, before proceeding with conversation. He lowered his voice in a way that sent shivers up Louis' spine, making them feel as if they were about to hear a piece of highly confidential, highly important information. "So, I've got some news for you. This could be a massive business opportunity if done right. Not only would it look excellent on your individual resumes as you proceed with your careers as photographers, but it would be incredible advertisement and publicity for my studios, and company. I've selected the two of you, because you are my absolute favorite team, out of everyone who's currently in work with me. and that's saying something, yeah? We've got a lot of talent on deck, as of now. so. Do you think you can handle it?"

the boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, neither one of them knowing what was to come, or what the proper response to this was. Heads swimming with possibilities, they remained silent. Mr. Carson took their lack of response as a cue to continue speaking. "Are you boys familiar with Harry Styles?" Louis eyes widened. That was NOT what he was expecting to hear. And he was completely baffled as to what mention of some singer had anything to with the massive confidential photography business that he and Liam were on the verge of being assigned. Liam shrugged, and chuckled. "Sure, yeah. Who hasn't?" "Like, the singer. Sure, he's got some good tracks, I guess. Don't Let Me Go was a tune! But I'm afraid I'm not really into the whole Indie music scene." Louis chimed in casually, still utterly confused. "What's this got to do with-" Liam began, but Mr. Carson cut him off with a wave of his hand. "He's going to be here, in New York City next weekend." Mr.C explained. "He's due to be on the cover of Vogue, and they're looking for some additional photographers to help with his shoot. They contacted me, in hopes that I'd be able to offer a team to take on this project. They're looking for creativity, and flare, and most likely, second opinions on how he should be styled." Louis mouth dropped open, and he felt physically unable to shut it. A wave of shock seemed to dominate his body in that instant, he was suddenly trembling. Liam seemed equally speechless. They were both good photographers, but NEVER would either of them had imagined receiving an offer for something as massive a this. Not in their entire lives. "You can't- you can't be serious." Louis squeaked. Mr. C grinned. "would I joke about something like this?" "Vogue?" Liam gasped. "harry styles??" Louis choked. "Take it in, boys." \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Harry opened his eyes to immediate recognition of a familiar pounding headache and terrible back pain. Marimba blared from his iPhone from its position beside his tour bus bunk, and he groaned in protest. This was by far the worst hangover he'd dealt with in months-and with the way he'd been taking to alcohol this year, he'd endured PLENTY. Despite the fact that he was constantly being chastised by management for his careless behavior and frequent trips to random clubs during tour, he was beginning to care less and less as the days wore on. Harry wasn't a jerk. He more than appreciated everything that his fans did for him and the daily opportunities that he received. But he was just, so sad. And so, so tired of the massive responsibilities that came with being in the public eye 24/7. He hated tabloids and paparazzi. He hated the fact that it was a rare occasion for him to be able to log into his twitter mentions without being greeted by a steady stream of hate and scrutiny for everything and anything he did. He hated the rumors and lies and the ways that he was perceived as a womanizer. When in reality, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept with a girl. He hated the fact that his dad had abandoned him, leaving him with nightmares and permanent fear of never being good enough. Worse of all, he hated himself. Nothing could boost his confidence, and it seemed that as of lately, despite how good things were going and how much his fan base was growing in the US, his mental health was on a relentless, undeterred, down spiral. Nothing could pick it up. Nothing could motivate him to sober up, or remove himself from bed in the morning, even if there was an interview to be attended or show to be played. He believed that there was a genuine chemical imbalance in his brain, but was simultaneously in denial of being plagued with any form of mental illness. He didn't want help. He didn't want to fix things, as badly as they needed to be fixed. No matter how often his boyfriend, radio host, Nick Grimshaw suggested meetings with therapists or some form of mental health break, Harry never even so much as considered the possibility. He was convinced that he deserved to be doomed in the trap of sadness, convinced that he wasn't good enough for the life he'd been given. And nick, well. Nick wasn't quite as supportive as he pretended to be. By obligation, the lad would casually recommend a break or mental health advisory during conversation, but he didn't seem very opposed to getting regularly shitfaced with Harry in crummy gay bars. He didn't seem like he truly wanted to help the tortured boy, and to be honest, he was always partaking in sketchy behavior while Harry was on tour. Harry didn't seem to notice much, but it would likely take a blind person not to question whether Nick slept around while Harry was away. So, it wasn't like Harry had this excellent relationship that blew him away every day. He didn't get particularly excited about coming home, to see Nick, or even to see his family. He'd been almost as miserable in England as he was in America. Some days Harry woke up, moody and hungover, and wondered if there was anything he truly had to live for. He hated himself. He felt like he was a failure. Nobody could open his eyes, and if he didn't get proper help soon, Harry feared that he would finally do the deed and commit. Just disappear. It was a nice thought. He liked the idea of an escape route. His bracelet covered wrists were tragic evidence of this. Harrys entire team were aware of his issues. They didn't know the severity and depth of them, or really even the reasons. They didn't know Harry on that personal level. But they were certainly aware that he needed to receive help. It was just, it was just so difficult to make the boy do anything he didn't want to do. And it was even harder to fit in a time to address his sadness and unwillingness to participate in most major aspects of life with the schedule that he had to keep up as a performer. and of COURSE, it had to be hidden from his fans. bad, bad publicity. So time went on, and Harry felt worse. He hated cameras. Despised them, actually. His reaction was less than positive when he discovered that he'd be doing a photo shoot for Vogue in the coming weekend. He was distraught, and unwilling. But of course he was going to be forced. And of course it was going to be awful. And his entire team felt more than bad for the photographers and Vogue staff that would be dealing with a messy Styles, come the day of. He'd probably be extra sad or extra drunk or something. Extra fun. Little did Louis or Liam know what they were going to be in for.


	2. VOGUE Mr. Malik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zayn is the CEO of vogue. haha i dont know why but it seemed fitting. so don't let go on me..in the next chapter i will have harry and louis finally meet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm sure you guys were very bored with the first chapter seen as it was mostly background information but no worries!! it got a few more hits than i expected and I'm so greatful for that!! so. :D
> 
> comments are so SO appreciated. or you can just tell me whats up on twitter, @stylinlight  
> i love suggestions bc tbh when I'm writing a story i have no idea where i want it to go so like if you guys want to let me know if there's anything you want to see more of, I'm definitely down to ideas  
> :D yay thank you for reading!

The entire week prior to the Vogue shoot felt like a blur of intense preparation and anxiety on the part of Louis and Liam at work. Neither had ever been so busy or so eager to perfect their craft, as they anticipated their very first time working with a major star, and MAJOR magazine. Mr. Carson was right in reminding them that should they perform well and please the Vogue staff with shots of Harry, they'd continue to receive incredible opportunities as well as all around incredible publicity and recognition in the world of big time photography.This was both a blessing and a curse, as it increased their work ethic and determination to collect good ideas-it doubled their nerves and fears of messing up or doing something wrong, or being a general disappointment. As it was made apparent to the lads that Harry was on a tight schedule, they'd be meeting with him for two hours precisely on Friday night to introduce ideas, wardrobe, and get familiar with the lad. On Saturday, they'd proceed with their roles in the actual afternoon-long shoot, and he'd be in NYC until Sunday, should there be any issues or necessary redoes.  
And it was surreal. Louis couldn't help but acknowledge the unlikelihood of their situation at random while he and Liam were browsing old Vogue shoots to get general inspiration or taking trial shots of co-workers to see which angles looked best. It was like it was necessary for him to say it out loud as many times as possible, like it was some kind of confirmation that this was actually happening. He was almost waiting for someone to look at him like he had three heads, or scoff at the mention of a star as large as Harry when he'd nudge Liam and murmur "I can't believe that we're going to be the ones taking shots of Harry fucking Styles. Like, the kid's quite literally a worldwide superstar. I've never been more-"  
"Nervous?" Liam would finish for him with an unsteady laugh, eyes not shifting from where they rested in close examination of a 2000's Vogue shoot on his laptop screen.  
"I was going to say excited. But like, yeah. That too." Louis admitted, taking the hint that Liam was clearly uninterested in idle conversation as he channeled his nerves into uninterrupted work.

Come Thursday, Louis awoke with a stomach full of unexpected butterflies. They remained there, unwanted, as he proceeded with his day, doing his best to keep the notion that he was less than twenty four hours from meeting and working with Harry and the Vogue team for the first time, well, tucked away. But it wasn't working. 

The fact that he and Liam were called to an afternoon meeting with the CEO of Vogue wasn't a great distraction from this. The surreality continued as a large tinted windowed limo arrived in front of the studios to retrieve the boys, and didn't end when they found themselves being transported to one of the largest skyscrapers they'd ever seen. It was unmistakably luxurious, it stretched on for miles, decorated with massive dome shaped windows and password locked sliding doors.

The only thing more intimidating than being in a CEO's office, was being in the CEO of VOGUE's office. Louis could physically feel himself beginning to perspire as he and Liam followed darkly clothed security guards down impossibly wide hallways and through a confusing series of sliding glass doors. He had no idea what the meeting would entail, and being himself, sincerely wished that he'd been prepared with a set of notes or cue cards or a descriptive email or SOMETHING. What was one supposed to say to the fucking manager of one of the largest companies in the world? A glance over at the small beads of sweat forming on Liam's forehead told him that he wasn't alone in his worry. But Liam worried about everything, too. It wasn't much consolation. Louis hadn't even been given the slightest bit of background information on the man he was minutes away from meeting. Was he old, young? Kind or awful? Hard on his employees or pleasantly laid-back? Louis was jolted out of his tyrant of terrifying and utterly bewildered thoughts when the largest security guard spoke. His voice was squeaky, a strange contrast to his incredible bulk and tough demeanor. "Mr. Malik's office is straight through that door." the man instructed. "We'll leave a guard to wait here for you, and escort you back to your form of transportation when you're through with your meeting." There wasn't an ounce of comforting friendliness in his business like tone. Either he was completely oblivious to the nervously wrecked state that Louis and Liam were evidently in, or he chose to ignore it or he simply didn't care. Louis sighed, unable to refrain from biting his nails as he attempted to calm down- following Liam, who was the first to push his way through the doorway. There was a final minuscule hallway, the last section of space separating the young lads and one of the most powerful men in the city. "Should we-erm. Do you think we should, like, y'know, knock?". Louis rasped. He resembled a young Bambi in the instant, almost. Wide eyed and unsure. It would have been completely adorable and he would have likely been made of fun by a good natured and teasing Liam, had the circumstances been different. Had Liam not been equally terrified. "Probably, yeah. That's good manners, innit?" Liam huffed, doing an awful job of disguising his anxiety. "Right. Go on, you do it, Li." Liam looked like he was about to protest, then realized that an argument wouldn't much help their situation. He instead shook his head and raised his hand, only hesitating for a second, before banging politely on the metallic door. "Brave." Louis whispered greatfully. Liam's headnod was a silent response. The minute that ensued before the large door creaked open felt like an eternity to Louis, frightened goosebumps refusing to disappear from his neck and arm. But slowly, the door crept backward, revealing the most genuinely gorgeous man either of them had ever seen. Astoundingly enough, he couldn't have been over twenty years old. A massive quiff, tastefully highlighted with a single blonde streak complemented a creamy tan complexion and wide brown eyes. His lashes were impossibly long- and he simultaneously seemed to manage to give off an air of complete mystery and endearment. Louis and Liam were unaware of how this was possible, but couldn't tear their eyes from their impulsive analysis of this angelic being. "I- holy shit. I thought you'd be old." Louis blurted. Liam's eyes widened in disbelief and terror as he glanced in Louis direction, feeling a combination of sheer surprise and secondhand embarrassment for his mate. "Louis!", Liam cried. Liam often found himself creating ways to make amends for things that would slip out of Lou's mouth in various situations, but hadn't been prepared to apologize to the CEO of fucking vogue. Before Louis could attempt to cover his tracks, Mr. Malik was laughing and waving the boys inside. His laughter was a musical sound. It seemed to instantly create good vibes and lighten the panicky mood. "You boys look like you've seen a ghost, yeah?" Mr. Malik said, an amused grin plastered to his face as he motioned for the lads to have a seat in two impressively large wooded chairs, cushioned with silky embroidery. He then proceeded to take his own, behind a massive desk, laying back to kick his feet up and get comfortable. It was incredibly unprofessional, but wonderfully welcoming. Louis loved it. Liam coughed. Mr. Malik's office was just as luxurious as one might expect for a twenty year old multimillionaire, but could not be categorized anywhere within the realm of.. typical. Walls that seemed to stretch on for miles were covered entirely in rock band posters, comic book printouts, and graffiti. Loads and loads of graffiti. "Did you do all that?" Louis wondered aloud, grinning in awe as he studied the room inch by inch. Zayn returned the smile. Louis couldn't help but recognize a glint of pride in his expression at the mention of the artwork. "Yeah!", he replied, features glowing animatedly as he gave the boys some background information on a few of his drawings and how he got into the graffiti scene in the first place. "I moved to Brooklyn with my Mum and sisters when I was thirteen." Mr. Malik explained. "Graffiti, was just like, the thing to do when you were a kid living in one of New York's burrows. But I got like, really into it. And I've never really let go of the hobby." "That's aces." Lou replied easily. "Good for you." Now Liam was smiling as well, unable to hide his genuine impressment. "Really cool." he agreed. Liam might not have been the King of creativity, but it was inevitable to feel SOMETHING when surrounded by art as detailed as Mr. Malik's. The amount of effort and passion that had been swirled together at different instances to create the decorative masterpieces was evident- and impossible not to recognize. "So that's enough about me, I suppose." Zayn decided finally, eyeing the boys with a sly smile. "I believe we've got some business to discuss." Had Louis failed to grow so comfortable so quickly in Zayn's presence, the nervous lump in his throat might have returned as his attention was brought back to the massive responsibility looming on the horizon. Despite Zayn's good vibes and carelessly chill demeanor, liam seemed to remain on edge, fidgeting in his seat as the mood shifted from casual to serious in what felt like moments. "Big business to discuss." Louis deadpanned, with a nervous chuckle, as if verbally acknowledging the size of what they'd been assigned would lighten the intimidation factor. "Big, indeed." Zayn responded. "Although I'm not too worried. Old man carsons' told me that you're the best team of photographers he's got." "Would you- would you like to see a layout of our ideas?" Liam offered quickly, his voice projecting into the massive room as a sound a lot smaller than he'd intended it to be. Zayn clapped his hands eagerly. "That would be excellent! Bring em on out then. To tell you the truth, I've been waiting all week for this!" Hurriedly, Liam reached down to retrieve the large manilla folder that rested in the side pocket of his Nikon satchel. Louis looked on, as he began to spread massive printouts and test shots that displayed the exact angles and different possible wardrobe choices for Saturday's shoot that they'd finally decided on. "If you don't like any of these, obviously we can make some changes. We've never seen Harry in person, before, of course but we were really just trying to get some ideas of how it would loo-" Liam began to babble, but Zayn cut him off with a childish cry of excitement. "Woah, this looks sick!" he complimented, examining a shot of a lanky mannequin dressed in a large pale blue blazer, white bowtie, and black trousers. It had been captured from a unique diagonal angle with lights and an intense flash so that the boys (mannequins) features were defined in an eerily stunning way, casting shadows in all directions. It almost looked too beautiful to be a photograph of, well, plastic.It gave off the illusion that the mannequin was in fact, glowing in the dark. Louis had to admit, it was nicely done. Their hard work had payed off, and he felt a small shiver on the back of his neck when he imagined what HARRY would look like in the exact position, glowing like that. "You- you don't hate it?" Liam murmured in awe. "Hate it?!" Zayn scoffed, incredulous. "This is going to be kickass boys. How could I hate it? Brilliant job." "I can't believe it. That's just, wow. I mean. thank you, sir. We really didn't' want to let you down." Louis added. "Don't call me sir. My name's Zayn!", he insisted. "And you've done nothing of the kind. You're both very very talented." So that was that. Louis and Liam left the meeting feeling temporary relief, and awe that they'd just wowed someone in a position as massive at Zayns. It was a good feeling, however entirely overwhelming. Good overwhelming. Now just to get through the weekend...


End file.
